Here is the sea as Henri saw it, and we have seen it, too, driving along les corniches, the cobalt water scissored with sailboats, white trianglecutouts on a papier couleurs sea.Matisse's violent vertes, trees and bushes, fields of jaune, cerise, violet;the houses in town, their wild paint combinations: vermillion/lime,gentian/terra cotta, pomegranate/mauve. . . . If you let your eyes go out of focus,you could be in front of a vendeur de crème glacée: citron vert, abricot,ananas, menthe. Boule after creamy boule.The whole world dissolves around the edges, would melt, if you'd let it.

Barbara Crooker

This poem first appeared in Barbara's book, Les Fauves, C&R Press, 2017.

Barbara Crooker is the author of eight books of poetry, including Les Fauves (C&R Press, 2017) and The Book of Kells (Poeima Poetry Series, Cascade Books, 2019). Her work has appeared in The Bedford Introduction to Literature, Ted Kooser's "American Life in Poetry," and on The Writer’s Almanac. www.barbaracrooker.com

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